


For Love Is Everlasting

by SkeletalSasquatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fate & Destiny, Fix-It, M/M, Past Lives, Recovered Memories, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkeletalSasquatch/pseuds/SkeletalSasquatch
Summary: It all started with weirdly sequential and specific dreams about gunfire and death.It all ended with an eternal bond that couldn’t be broken.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	For Love Is Everlasting

**Author's Note:**

> I love reincarnation AU and I know a lot of you do, so have this! Feed upon this content. 
> 
> CW for mentions of guns and gunshot wounds.

Weird shit was part of Adam Grantaire’s life. It always had been, always will be. 

But he never could’ve prepared for this. 

It started with nightmares. Nightmares about smoke, gunfire, and screaming. They all took place in a seemingly chronological order, oddly enough. They must’ve taken place over a hundred years ago. The first night started with a man speaking. He was in a small crowd of other people, who seemed to be his age. He can only remember some things the man said, but he remembered what the man looked like. He was a blond man, with sharp features and a scary look in his eyes. He was leading him and the other men to some kind of battle. He later pieced together that he was in a rebellion of some kind. They were all on a huge mass of scrapped furniture and planks, it formed a sort of barricade. There was a girl, who staggered into the fray with a head wound. A man in the crowd went to her, and he was very distraught. They might have been lovers, Grantaire assumed. Many people died. Then they went into the same building as before, and began drinking. They were talking, talking as close friends. But they all spoke as if they knew they were going to die on that barricade. It was horrible. He felt what they felt.

It was like he was there.

The next morning, they all returned to fighting. They had low ammunition, and people volunteered to go steal some from the bodies littering the street. But then, a young boy, no older than twelve, ran out into the gunfire. He grabbed several bags of ammunition, before getting shot in the side. It was in full view of everyone. He kept grabbing bags, until another shot was heard. It got him in the leg. He fell to the ground, and he smiled at him and the other men. A final shot rang out, hitting the boy right in the head. It was horrific. Everyone was in pure shock. The blond man gathered everyone, and gave a speech to them. Everyone knew they were going to die, there was no way they’d live. Including him, in the dream. Grabtaire couldn’t remember everything the man had said, but one thing stood out to him. 

“Until the earth is free.” The man shouted, grabbing and reloading his musket. They returned to firing on the barricade. One by one, all of them died. Then it was just Grantaire and the blond man. The blond man fell to the ground beside him with a wince. Dream Grantaire had been shot in the leg. He could feel it even after he woke up. They began talking, the two of them lying side by side, waiting for the other to die. In his dream, Grantaire turns to the blond man and utters one phrase. “Do you permit it?” He had said, offering his hand to him. The blond man took his hand. They laid on the cobblestone, before the man’s hand went limp. Soon after, a shot rang out and the dream ended. 

That had been over the course of four nights. They all happened in order. Like he was recalling an event. Like he was remembering it. 

Like he was there. 

But he shrugged it off. He shrugged it off until he went to go get coffee, and saw a man that looked exactly like one of the men in his dreams. Not the blond man, but another one he had spoken to. It was the ginger man who cracked jokes, even while they were accepting death. He remembered the man’s name. It was Courfeyrac. It was like his face was magnetically pulled towards the direction of the ginger man. The man must have seen him, because he returned the stare. The man’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, as if to say something, before walking away. 

This kept happening. It happened with all the men he saw in his dream. The man with glasses, Combeferre. The bald man, Bousset. The freckled man, Feuilly. The man with a limp, Joly. The tall man, Bahorel. The man who wrote poetry, Jehan. The girl with the head wound, Eponine. The boy who escaped, Marius. They all had the same defining trait as their dream counterparts. And they all looked at him the same way the man in the coffee shop did. He met a new dream person every day. He had been having shorter dreams. Dreams about the person he had met that day, in the same setting as his barricade dreams.

Everyone except the blond man was accounted for. 

Until he was. 

The day he met the blond man was a normal day. He hadn’t met any dream people in a few days, and that was a bit comforting. He would still get phantom pains in his leg, the image of a red flag out of the corner of his eye, or gunshots ringing in his ears. Maybe the lingering feeling of a hand on his shoulder. But that had become a regular part of his day. 

Grantaire was around campus, trying to pass time until his next class, which was in two hours. He had his sketchbook, and was doodling birds and trees he saw, until he turned his head towards one of the trees, and saw someone sitting there. A shockwave immediately passed through him. The man looked up. It was the blond man. 

The blond man’s name was Enjolras. 

And he was the same man from the dream.

Every memory came back. Debates, shared drinks, secret kisses, revolution. The passion that radiated off of Enjolras was almost tangible, it always had been. Everything made sense in that moment.

It was him in the dream, he was R. Everyone he had met… they were all the same people from his dream. They were all there. That’s what the look was. They all recognized each other. 

Enjolras’ mouth dropped open, as he stared at Grantaire in disbelief. Grantaire stood up, as did Enjolras. “Paris, June 5th, 1832.” Enjolras mumbled, hesitantly stepped towards Grantaire. “I’ve missed you so much.” Grantaire said, embracing Enjolras tightly. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” Enjolras responded, hugging him back. “I said I’d see you again, Apollo. Don’t you trust me?” Grantaire moves his hand to Enjolras’ hair. “I didn’t think you’d ever cut it.” Grantaire continued, pulling away from the embrace, grinning. “Hush, you. I never thought you’d have glasses. Did you drink so much that your vision is blurred even now?” Enjolras retorted, fiddling with Grantaire’s wire frame glasses. 

“We should go find everyone else.” Grantaire says, looking around. “I know where they are. Everyone’s here, on campus. I’d think that they would feel the bond.” Enjolras said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Bond?” Grantaire questioned, raising his eyebrow slightly. “Bond. It’s how I found you and you found me. It happens when two or more people are permanently linked together by fate. Always destined to meet again, to finish what they started. It introduces itself slowly, usually through dreams. Then you’d begin to feel things from the event you dream of, whether it be a faint pain in a strange place or a song continuously playing in your ear. It gets stronger and stronger, pulling you towards everyone in your bond. When you’ve finally reunited with the last person, everyone feels the bond reform. Everyone will be drawn to the location where the bond reformed, and then the bond begins again. But it only happens when the people are close enough together. Most of the time, it takes several generations.” Enjolras explains, taking Grantaire’s hand. “When I said that not even death could stop me, I think I caused this. We’re supposed to make the changes we should’ve made all those years ago. And we’ll keep meeting again until we do.” Enjolras continued. “I can’t believe that you were so passionate that you glued us all together for eternity.” Grantaire said, exhaling sharply. 

“There they are.” Grantaire gasped, looking over his shoulder at the group behind him. Everyone was there, all in various stages of shock. 

“So, what’ve you all been up to for the past one hundred eighty-eight years?”


End file.
